As The Seasons Change
by Blood and Dark Chocolate
Summary: Five years can really fly by, especially when you're on a dragon! Join your favorite Vikings in a series of one-shots, taking place between HTTYD and HTTYD2. Not RTTE compliant. Adventures and fluff aplenty.
1. Chapter 1: Some Days

**Disclaimer:** **I own no part of the How To Train Your Dragon franchise.**

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 **Chapter 1: Some Days**

It hadn't even been a year since the Red Death incident, and already he'd changed so much. She didn't think he'd even noticed.

Astrid leaned over Stormfly's neck and watched as Hiccup directed the villagers in installing the fire suppression system. The group of seasoned Vikings listened to him intently; no one questioned the fact that they were taking orders from a slight sixteen-year old. They just nodded and jumped to follow his directions, and in no time, the Gunnarson home was a little bit safer.

He didn't hesitate, moving along to the next house and motioning for Astrid and Stormfly to drop down the next load of gutters. Before long, the last neighborhood was finally fire-proofed. A series of test runs revealed that everything was in perfect working order, and the Vikings released a loud cheer, hoisting Hiccup on their shoulders. Astrid spotted the chief nearby, looking on with a wide grin.

Stoick had always been a figure of fear and respect, stomping angrily through the village and barking out orders that were immediately obeyed. The end of the Dragon War had changed that dramatically. Now, he strutted around in perpetual good humor, his chest puffed out in pride. The elders were muttering about announcing an heir to the chiefdom, about making it official. No one doubted that Hiccup would take up his father's mantle, and if Spitelout was a bit bitter that his son didn't stand a chance, he kept it too himself. Anti-Hiccup sentiments were frowned upon these days.

Hiccup was the only one that didn't see it. When Astrid hung out with him in his workshop, all he could talk about was improving the village infrastructure, making it more dragon-friendly. He had been hesitant to make suggestions to his dad and the elders at first, but after they had adopted his ideas about using dragons to improve ease of labor and formed the Dragon Academy, he had gotten more bold. In a few days, construction would begin on his newest project, the underground stables that would help house the growing number of dragons. If all went according to Hiccup's carefully drawn plan, the stables would be ready for inhabitation three weeks before Snoggletog.

With each new success, Hiccup stood a little taller, walked a little more confidently. He'd never be as vast and imposing as his father, but he made up for his small stature by exuding a quiet air of authority. It also helped that he seemed to be growing into his gangly frame, slowly building lean muscle in his chest, back, and shoulders. Astrid was glad that she had managed to bully him into two hours of weapons training with her every morning. With the right teacher, he was no longer quite as incompetent as they'd all believed. Instead of training him to fight with brute strength, she was coaching him in her fighting style, which relied heavily on speed and agility.

He was constantly getting distracted, so his progress was a little slow. But they'd made some headway with sword practice, especially after Hiccup had decided to design his own weapon, muttering stuff about a collapsible blade, a dual purpose handle, and fire. It sounded impossible to Astrid, but then Hiccup was a master of the impossible.

There was one other problem that was slowing down their weapons training. But Hiccup would never talk about it, never even mention it in passing, so Astrid had learned to watch for warning signs. A slight furrow between his brows, a tightness at the corners of his mouth, a hesitancy in his gait...

All the signs were apparent as the villagers set him down and started trickling towards the Mead Hall for a well-deserved supper. Astrid glanced around and met the chief's gaze. He too had noticed the signs, and gave her a slight nod before following the others up the hill. Hiccup was gingerly gathering up his detailed drawings and plans, and Astrid guided Stormfly to his side, landing softly.

He looked up, sparing her a small, strained smile. "Hey Astrid. Thanks again for your help today. Couldn't have done it without you."

Astrid rolled her eyes. "Oh please. You could have asked any of the dragon riders for help and you would have been fine."

She poked him hard in the side, causing him to stumble back and lean his weight on Toothless. The dragon had sauntered up behind him, sensing that something wasn't quite right with his rider. He hooked a wing around Hiccup's shoulders, so that the boy had no choice but to lean against him.

With the Night Fury supporting most of his weight, the tension eased from Hiccup's face. "Yeah, well, you and I both know that asking the twins to help would have been a disaster, and Snotlout doesn't exactly excel at taking directions."

Astrid shrugged. Perhaps he had a point. But she didn't think she was quite as irreplaceable as he liked to pretend. She stooped to gather his papers and turned toward the chief's house. "Whatever. Come on, let's go put these in the archives."

The archives was the nickname Astrid had given the three wooden trunks in Hiccup's room. They were all stuffed with the boy's past projects. When Hiccup had still been weak and recovering from the battle with the Red Death, she had dumped them out on the floor of his room and helped him sort through the mess. She had recognized some of the inventions from various disasters over the years, but some were completely foreign, having obviously never gotten past the planning stages.

Now, every new project he completed was ceremoniously filed there, a growing stack of proof that Hiccup was changing their lives for the better.

They trudged up to the house in companionable silence. Though it was a relatively short walk, the tension had returned to Hiccup's frame by the time they arrived. Stormfly flew up to the roof and nestled there while the others ventured in.

The stairs to the second floor proved slow and torturous, and Astrid pretended not to notice Hiccup's sigh of relief when he finally plopped down on his bed. Toothless, satisfied that his human was safely ensconced, blew a small fire into the hearth before settling down on his slab of stone.

Astrid arranged the papers into the nearest chest, then wandered over to Hiccup's desk. The work table had once been housed in a small room behind the forge, but everything had been moved to his bedroom when that space had been expanded and remodeled into the Dragon Armory. As usual, the surface was strewn with sketches and charcoal pencils. One drawing in particular caught her attention, and she dug it out of the mess and held it up to the light. "Is this...?"

Hiccup glanced up from where he was rubbing his leg. "Oh yeah, that. Well, did you really think I was joking about the fire sword? Come on, Astrid, you know me better than that."

"This is insane! Only you would ever think this was a good idea." She kicked off her boots and stretched out at the end of his bed, still examining the design. "Monstrous Nightmare saliva... interesting."

"Yeah, and I'm experimenting with capsules of Zippleback gas that would spray from the handle. It wouldn't be very much, only enough to create a small explosion, but it could come in handy during a fight."

Astrid frowned. "The blade looks a little... flimsy, don't you think? These gaps that you put in to help the flames, and the hinges where the blade collapses, both of them make the blade weaker. A few hard strikes against an axe, or even another sword, would break it in half."

Hiccup took the paper from her, tilting his head and considering her comments. "You're right. I'll need to forge it from good iron, and reinforce the weaker spots. Maybe Gronckle iron will do the trick..." He peered at her over the top of the page. "You know, this sort of insight would have been helpful a few years ago, when I was making a fool of myself by inventing faulty weaponry."

"Yeah? Well, you never asked, so how was I supposed to know you needed my help?" She grinned at him. "You were too busy blushing and stammering anytime we got within five feet of each other."

A flush worked its way up his cheeks, bolstering her words. "I didn't, I-I mean, that's not—"

Stoick chose that moment to burst into the room. Oblivious to Hiccup's embarrassment and Astrid's laughter, he strode over to the bed, handing them each a bowl of mutton stew with a hunk of bread.

"I knew I'd find you two rascals up here." He spotted the sheet of paper on the bed between them. "Making plans, eh? Nothing too crazy, I hope? We've already got quite a lot on our plate with the stables, son, we haven't got time for any other big projects before the ice sets in."

"No, dad, nothing like that—"

"Good, good." He ran his gaze surreptitiously over Hiccup's outstretched legs before turning back towards the door. "Well, eat up. The next race is in two days, and Spitelout won't let me live it down if Snotlout beats out either one of you again. I'll be in the Mead Hall if you need me." And with that, he was gone, the bang of the front door echoing up to them seconds later.

Astrid and Hiccup ate in peaceful silence, Toothless lifting his head to sniff in their direction before going back to sleep. Hiccup finished first and set his bowl aside, regarding Astrid as she tore into her chunk of bread.

"You know... I've noticed the system you two have. You aren't as sneaky as you think."

Astrid froze. "I-I don't what you're talking about."

"No?" Hiccup crossed his arms and leaned back against the headboard. "So it's just pure coincidence that we ended up here, instead of going to the Mead Hall for dinner with everyone else? And my dad just happened to walk in, bringing food for the both of us? It was masterfully orchestrated, but you must have known that I would catch on eventually."

Well, of course. This was Hiccup, after all. In fact, Astrid was surprised that she'd gotten away with the ruse for this long. She put aside her bowl and lifted an eyebrow. He didn't seem all that upset, but then again, you couldn't always tell with Hiccup.

"Do tell, oh great Dragon Master. What exactly have I been doing?"

Hiccup sighed dejectedly, and Astrid resisted the urge to lean forward and hug him tight. "You and my dad, you've noticed that some days are... painful. And on those days, you always manage to steer me home early. One of you brings food, and neither of you lets me get up for the rest of the evening." He stared glumly down at his wooden prosthetic.

It was Astrid's turn to sigh. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, you're not exactly the easiest person to read. It took me a while to realize that something was off, and I was very tempted to punch you when I finally understood what was happening." She glared at him. "You should have told me, Hiccup. I want to help."

"Why, Astrid?" He looked away sullenly. "Why are you here? You could be out there, having fun with people who have two legs, who don't have to worry about pain... people who aren't broken."

Oh no. Lightning-fast, Astrid reached over and punched Hiccup in the shoulder. Hard.

"Ow!"

"That's for being a self-pitying moron." She leaned over him and snagged the tin of salve off his bedside table. "You're not broken, muttonhead, you're still healing. And I stay because you're somewhat amusing, despite the fact that you're missing an appendage."

Astrid ignored his scowl and looked down at the tin in her hand. Did she dare...?

Taking a deep breath, she set her hand on his knee. Hiccup inhaled sharply, but made no move to stop her as she trailed her hand down to the rope that held his prosthetic in place. With cautious fingers, she untied the knots and set the wooden contraption on the floor.

The stump underneath was covered in cloth. She hesitated, glancing up at him. His face was guarded, as if he expected her to run screaming for the hills at any second. Her dragon boy was smart, but he could be so blind.

The dressing came undone easily. The scars underneath shone in the firelight, a stark white against the angry red skin around them. The tissue was pulled tight, unable to keep up with his growth spurt. No wonder he was in such pain.

She uncapped the small jar, scooping out a dollop of salve with two fingers. Carefully, she smoothed the ointment over his skin and massaged it gently into the muscle.

The relief was immediate. Hiccup sighed and slumped back against his pillow. Astrid watched as his eyes drifted shut and his jaw softened. She continued applying the lotion until the scar tissue lost some of its tightness, then closed the tin and put it back on his nightstand.

Sitting back on her heels, she regarded him thoughtfully. She hated the shadows under his eyes. Her dragon boy was becoming a man, and he wasn't going about it the easy way. But oh, what a man he would be. He would lead, and others would follow. It had already begun.

And already she missed the boy that had shown her the world above the clouds. The wild, reckless boy that knew nothing of pain and responsibility, the boy that tamed dragons without a second thought. She needed to make sure that boy never disappeared, no matter what.

She crept forward, crawling up Hiccup's supine form. He sensed her approach, and his lips twitched up at the corners when her braid swung down to tickle his nose.

"What are you smiling at, yak brain?"

"Well, you see..." His grin widened, but his eyes remained closed. "There's this beautiful Valkyrie, and I think she really likes me, even though I keep making an ass of myself."

"Is that so?" She leaned down and ran her lips softly over his. "Well, aren't you lucky..."

His fingers threaded deftly through her hair. "Yes, I am."

And he brought her mouth crashing down to his.

His lips were hot, and she instantly caught fire. Their tongues tangled, wet and warm, and her fingers curled into his tunic, tugging him closer. She tried to breathe in all his wildness, wanting to hold it next to her heart.

Hours, days seemed to pass before she broke away, gasping for air. He was panting too, regarding her through half-lidded eyes. She willed away the blush that burned her cheeks and rolled off the bed.

"Well, this has been fun." She tugged on her boots and rose, straightening her clothing. "But I've got things to do, people to see. I should warn you, some of those people have two legs, but don't get jealous. You're still my favorite."

"Ha ha." Hiccup rolled his eyes, then shot her a sly glance and patted the space next to him. "Are you sure I can't entice you to stay, milady? Those others can wait."

"Hmm..." Astrid sauntered back over to him, running her eyes down his body. Tempting, but if she stayed, they would do things that neither of them was ready for.

"Not tonight, dragon boy." She sidestepped as he made a grab for her, then planted a kiss on his cheek and scampered back out of reach. "After all, you have weapons training bright and early tomorrow morning, so you should get some rest. I hear your teacher doesn't take it easy on anyone, especially not one-legged Vikings."

His groan of disappointment followed her down the stairs and out into the night.

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 **Author's Note: While I was writing this piece, I came across a beautiful drawing titled Recovery by toerning. I think it encapsulates the mood of the story really well. You can find it on DeviantArt.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Peace Treaty (Part 1)

**Author's Note: Welcome back everyone! Thanks to all the people who favorited and followed. And a special thanks to AnaWinchester-Universe67 and Meraki7734, and anyone else who reviewed.**

 **In response to Meraki7734: Though this chapter doesn't feature any Snotlout (sorry), I do have plans for a Jorgensen Family Reunion story :) I can't say more, because it's still in the drafting stage, but please let me know if you'd be interested in reading about that.**

 **As we jump into this next chapter, I just want to let you guys know that these one-shots aren't arranged in chronological order. I'm going to be skipping back and forth in time, but I will stay within the five years that separated the two movies.**

 **Additionally, I won't be sticking to the world or stories laid out in RTTE (or any of the TV shows), but everything that happened in the movies is hard canon. However, if you have watched RTTE, you might see a familiar face or two at some point in my stories, but those characters will not follow familiar plot lines from the shows.**

 **Some differences are going to be very apparent in this next story (which is technically a two-shot, my bad, this one ran away from me). In the world I lay out, Berk is part of the Nordic Archipelago, which is comprised of seven major islands, as well as random islets. Each island is home to a different tribe of Vikings.**

 **The following takes place about 2-3 years after the events of HTTYD. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the How To Train Your Dragon franchise.**

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 **Chapter 2: The Peace Treaty (Part 1)**

That first winter was the coldest in living memory.

So when the absence of dragon raids was noted, seasoned warriors blamed the weather.

"Everyone knows that dragons don't venture far in the cold," Viking parents could be heard telling their kids. "Now go practice swinging your hammer. Those beasts will be back again come spring, mark my words."

But the ice melted, the snow turned to rain, and still no dragons on the horizon.

Everyone was on edge. What if the fire-breathing monsters where gathering their numbers, readying themselves for an assault that would put Ragnarok to shame?

As the weeks wore on, tempers rose and fights broke out all over the Nordic Archipelago. Each village held spirited tournaments to ease tensions, but nothing could erase the sense of impending doom that spread across the islands. Some of the more anxious Vikings could be seen stock-piling shields, and everyone went to bed with an axe under their pillow.

As the weather grew warmer, traders ventured tentatively out of their harbors. No matter how far they sailed, the tales were all the same: not a single raid in months. Even as far north as Outcast Island, no one had seen so much as a scale.

Growing bolder, the merchants turned their sights to Berk. The northern-most island in the Archipelago, it was also the largest, boasting a bevy of natural resources. Unfortunately, it was located right on the edge of dragon country, only a few miles from Helheim's Gate. The locals occasionally voyaged south to trade, but merchant vessels rarely sailed that close to dragon-infested waters.

An intrepid business man named Johann was the first to brave the journey. He returned shaken, telling strange tales of dragons with riders on their backs, stories of Red Deaths and Night Furies. Despite the fact that he brought back beautifully etched weaponry and precious metals, no one else dared venture north, fearing a similar madness would afflict them.

But Johann gathered his wits and sailed forth once more, returning on the eve of winter with even more quality goods and odd tales. Villagers thronged to hear him recount the wonders he had seen: Vikings flying dragons, working with them, racing them.

The skeptics shook their heads. Dragons were vicious, unholy devils that could not be tamed, and no Viking was crazy enough to try. Johann was simply trying to deter other traders from a profitable enterprise. And as for the dragons, they had clearly vanished into the mists from whence they came.

The next spring, more merchants charted a course for Berk. And without fail, they all came back with the same stories.

Unable to dismiss so many similar accounts, the chiefs met with their councils: if the Hooligans had indeed managed to tame the monsters, what did that mean for the rest of the Archipelago? They were keeping to their island for now, but would they be content to stay there? Or would they fly south, intent on conquest?

Blades were sharpened once more, battlements were reinforced. It was only a matter of time before the dragon-riding Vikings came to wage war. All eyes turned north, watching for fire and fury.

But the seasons changed, and still no sign of them. It wasn't until the following spring that reports started to circulate of a masked rider on a black dragon, spotted off the coasts of Outcast and Berserker lands. He kept his distance, never approaching the shore. Whispers told of a Valkyrie, hair like sunlight, flying at his side.

This news alarmed Bjorn the Blind, chief of the Buffoons. Sickness had swept over Mudpie Island during the winter, and they were in no shape to defend themselves. If these mysterious riders were scouts, war would come that summer.

Decisive action needed to be taken. He sent out summons to the other tribes, calling for a gathering on midsummer's day to discuss an alliance. If they could band together against the threat of Berk, they stood a better chance of survival.

The responses were immediate. Messengers arrived, bearing banners with the official seal of each tribe. The Skrill of the Berserkers, the Razorwhip of the Rascals, the Speed Stinger of the Marauders… no one had declined his invitation. And each banner sported a miniature version of the tribe seal in the lower righthand corner, signaling that each chief would be bringing their heir.

Preparations were in full swing when a trading ship arrived with a package from Berk. Bjorn's remaining eye widened at the bright red pennant with a Monstrous Nightmare embossed in the center. The crest of the Hooligans… and in the corner of the banner, a smaller emblem.

Bjorn's daughter, Marmalade, squinted at the smaller insignia. "That's strange. I've never seen that dragon before. Come to think of it, I've never seen an heir use a seal that was different from their sire's. What does this mean, Dad?"

Her father scanned the note that had come with the package. "It means the Hooligans are coming to south at last."

"Can't we just send the banner back, tell them they aren't invited?"

"No." Bjorn pinched the bridge of his nose. "If we send it back, we will be declaring war." He sighed heavily, crushing the paper in his fist.

Marmalade looked up, abandoning her perusal of the banner. "What is it? What's in the letter?"

Her father tossed her the crumpled paper before slumping into his throne. "They're arriving at noon on midsummer's day… and they'll be riding dragons."

 **-0-0-0-0-0-**

The village on Mudpie Island was located above the muddy cove that gave the island its name. The town sat on the steep cliffs that surrounded the cove and extended into the sea, creating a natural shelter for the harbor. Bjorn's forefathers had carved stairs and ramps into the cliffside to connect the town to the harbor, using the rock they excavated to build the sturdy little village.

On midsummer's eve, five chiefs made their way up those steps, surrounded by their tribes' best warriors. Each Viking was armed to the teeth, bristling with iron and furs. Word had circulated about the visitors from Berk, and no one was taking any chances. They all remembered what had happened twenty years ago at the last gathering of chieftains.

Bjorn and his daughter met them at the top of the stone staircase, offering tankards of ale as a sign of peace. Each chief accepted the welcome tersely, downing the drink and asking the same question.

"Have they arrived yet?"

Bjorn shook his head each time. "Tomorrow, at noon."

The feast that night was subdued. None of the usual singing, dancing, and general merriment that characterized big Viking gatherings. The tribes kept to themselves, speaking in hushed tones and retiring early.

Midsummer's day dawned bright and cloudless. As the sun crept over the horizon, the village roused itself from restless slumber. Breakfast was scarfed down hastily, tired eyes scanning the skies above.

By mid morning, the Buffoons and their guests were preparing themselves for the worst. Catapults were armed, crossbows were drawn, and buckets of water were lined up outside every home. The village blacksmith had requested volunteers to help him sharpen every blade. The young and elderly were filing slowly into the deep caverns under the town, where the tribe kept its winter rations.

As the sun reached its zenith, a horn blared from the lookout tower. The warriors grabbed their weapons and gathered in the town square, faces turned north. The entire world seemed to hold its breath.

Marmalade was the first to break the silence. "There! I see them!"

Two black dots materialized in the distance. They were approaching fast, heading towards the island in a straight line. As they drew closer, gasps echoed around the square.

"Night Fury!"

"Bring them down!"

"Hold your fire." Bjorn's voice boomed over the commotion. "Let them come to us."

The dragons and their riders slowed their pace, hovering just out of range. The masked man atop the Night Fury reached behind him, unfurling a large white banner. The other rider, a hooded woman on a Deadly Nadder, swooped down to catch the other end of the cloth, and they stretched it out between them, facing the shore.

Even from afar, the black runes inscribed on its surface were clearly legible.

"Peace." Phlegma the Fierce, leader of the Marauders, sounded astonished. "They come in peace."

Stuf the Surly, chief of the Loafers, was not fooled. "Lies! We should shoot them down before they get any closer."

Bjorn was equally suspicious, but he motioned the other chiefs closer. As they held council, the dragons maintained their distance, their riders motionless in their saddles. After several minutes of heated debate, they broke apart, motioning the archers to put down their bows.

When the dragon riders spotted the white flag being hoisted up the lookout tower, they rolled up their banner and flew in slowly, descending towards the town square in large circles. The crowd scrambled to clear the area, taking cover beneath the eaves of nearby buildings.

The beasts headed for the clearing, but veered off at the last second to land on the great stone roof of the Mead Hall. On the ground, Vikings braced themselves, clutching their weapons close.

"We come in peace." A clear voice rang down, echoing Phlegma's earlier words. "We mean you no harm."

The masked rider had removed his helmet to reveal a young man with messy auburn hair. His posture was relaxed, as if unaware that he sat atop the deadliest dragon known to mankind. The Night Fury shifted under him, scanning the square with narrowed green eyes.

Bjorn stepped out of the shadows and squinted up at the rider, as the others slowly emerged from their hiding places. "Those who come with dragons rarely come in peace. State your name and your purpose, stranger."

The youth set down his helmet and raised his hands. "My name is Hiccup. My father is Stoick the Vast, chief of the Hooligan tribe. We are here to negotiate a peace treaty between our tribe and the rest of the Archipelago."

Murmurs raced through the assembly, but Bjorn ignored them. "And where is your father?"

Hiccup gestured to the ocean. "He and our delegation are waiting on a sea stack, about five miles north. We were unsure of our welcome, so he sent us ahead as messengers."

"And how many dragons does your delegation come with?"

The other rider threw back her hood, revealing a striking blonde warrior. "We have about twenty dragons with us."

"They aren't vicious," Hiccup added hastily, shooting a glance at his companion. "We just need an open space where they can land and rest. They won't be any trouble, I promise."

Bjorn traded looks with the other chiefs. These two seemed mostly harmless, despite the fact that they rode deadly monsters. Perhaps the Hooligans really did come in good faith.

Still, inviting twenty dragons to stay on his island seemed insane…

Bjorn squared his shoulders, his mind made up. "There is an empty field on the west side of town. Your party can land there. But first, you will come down and drink a cup of ale with us, as a sign that you will abide by our laws and respect our hospitality."

The young man sighed. "Very well."

He turned, holding out a staying hand to his partner as she made to follow him, then patted his dragon's head gently, murmuring something into its ear. It seemed to understand him, prowling to the edge of the roof before leaping down.

The Night Fury landed on the ground with a loud thump, sending the nearest onlookers scrambling backwards. Great black wings folded in tight, claws gouging deep marks into the dirt, its every twitch was designed to frighten even the most hardened warrior. It shot them a baleful glare, baring a row of gleaming white teeth.

The rider disembarked gracefully, setting a calming hand on the beast and flashing the surrounding villagers a friendly smile. "Now, Toothless, be nice."

Bjorn frowned at him. This was the heir of Stoick the Vast? The traders had relayed great tales of the boy who had tamed a creature of lightning and death, who had defeated the Red Death and brought dragons to Berk. Now, standing in front of him, Bjorn could hardly believe it. Only the Night Fury behind him lent any credence to the myth.

The young man was slight, shorter and skinnier than an average Viking. If a good strong breeze blew through the town square, it would surely knock him over. He was clean-shaven, and he wore his hair in a short, messy mop. A few small braids stuck out at odd angles near the nape of his neck.

As he sauntered towards them, Bjorn examined him more closely. He eschewed the usual heavy furs of a chieftain in favor of black and brown leather gear, strapped to his frame with numerous buckles. He carried no visible weapon other than a small dagger secured to his left forearm. His gait was uneven, and Bjorn glanced down to see that a metal contraption where his left foot should have been.

Despite his many irregularities, the young man walked with an air of confidence and authority. His green eyes darted around, cataloguing every detail, missing nothing. On the roof above him, his companion monitored the crowd, tossing an ornate axe from hand to hand.

The dragon followed in his master's footsteps like a great shadow, hissing softly. Bjorn fought the urge to draw his sword, and motioned his daughter forward. Marmalade approached cautiously, her hands shaking as she held out a tin cup of ale.

The Hooligan heir took the cup and lifted it. "On behalf of my father, I thank you for your generosity and accept your kind offer of hospitality."

He downed the ale with a slight grimace, then surveyed the hostile faces around him with an uneasy smile. "So… peace?"

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 **Author's Note: That's all for now! Reviews are always welcome, I love hearing your thoughts.**

 **UP NEXT – The Peace Treaty (Part 2): Hiccup and the other Viking heirs enter into a battle of wills, while the chiefs try to resolve their differences and come to an agreement.**


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